The White Peacock and his Panther
by Mary-Maidment
Summary: An AU Fanfiction about how Antenociticus and Desdemona Snape struggle to survive under the reign of Voldemort. They think they find their salvation but... This fanfiction isn't as corny as it sounds...
1. Chapter 1

**The White Peacock and his Panther**

**A/N: **_This story was invented by the crazy mind of my twelve year-old self. But it wasn't written until I was thirteen/fourteen. This explains the possible plot-holes I haven't filled, the poor pacing of the writing and the ever-so OOC canon characters. I have spent enough time however, to edit the storyline slightly so it fits more with Harry Potter lore (or whatever you call it.)_

_Not the greatest AU fanfiction, but the reason why it's AU is slightly more straightforward then others. Simply, Neville and his parents were killed by Voldemort instead of the Potters. There's tons of unexpected OC's, and for that I apologise. And sorry to all Americans for this, but American wizards are pure-blood bigots not associated with the global Wizarding community. I know real Americans aren't like that but it's a vital backbone of one character's background. Oh and btw, Voldy's still in power... the first war never ended at all... those poor muggle-borns._

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****Chapter One – The Blood of Antenociticus**

It edged on midnight in a humid late July. The stifling heat of the day was eventually fading but the night lying stagnant kept the air uncomfortable and sticky. The sky was a deep aubergine hue with thick pink-grey clouds which concealed everything expect a few glinting stars. The clouds loomed over the Lancashire moorlands, which were lit only by the streetlamps and car lights far in the distance. The clouds cloaked over an infamous hill that brooded on the hilly landscape, Pendle Hill. In a day with no haze, it clearly lay in melancholy scarred by the ancient stone walls of fields, the harsh yellow grasses that thrived upon the hill, the dull lilac of heather and the rough black stone faces of the imposing hill.

Far in rural Lancashire sat a large flag stone house. Long ago, it was constructed to rear cattle in the frosty winters of England. But one dank November day, in the eighteen century, the pure-blooded Diamant family stole the old barn from the feeble and aged farmer, feeling no remorse as the old man starved to death afterwards. As the years rolled by, the Diamant family neglected their holiday home in the moors as they immigrated to America to avoid their blood-purist views being criticised. The house aged as the Diamants abandoned it. It was not until the twentieth century that a Diamant or any person returned to the place and called it home.

The evidence of the family remained in the house, paintings and photographs of past distant memories. Memories echoed within the cold stone walls, unhappy memories. The floors and panelled walls were probably recently polished as the stench of wood polish fumes still fervently remained in the air. The stone fireplace in the living room was grand and wide but neglected and unused. It was late so the family should have been in slumber. But they weren't.

Up the mahogany stairs was a girl in the hallway. She was around fifteen and holding a dying flickering candle to be a beacon through the dark. Behind her, a dreamy boy around seven trailed behind her appearing to be more interested in the flowing train of her white nightgown than her.

The girl solemnly commented, "Mum isn't back, I bet she's still _there_..."

The little boy suddenly looked at the girl and curiously asked, "What's _there, _Desdemona?"

The teenager Desdemona replied with a hint of anger in her voice, "You know what I _mean_, Antenociticus."

"Oh..." The boy Antenociticus realised but his questioning continued, "So is mum still being tortured by the Dark Lord?"

"Yes, Ant. I think so anyway." Desdemona paused in thought, "But she might be still at the Department of Mysteries doing late-night research. She used to do it all the time before you were born..." After she uttered this, she gave a slight uneasy wince of her eyes, she realised she mentioned something that she shouldn't of mentioned to her little brother.

As Desdemona' foot touched the first step downstairs, Antenociticus suggested, "Shouldn't we wait for mum downstairs?"

Desdemona turned to face her brother, "What do _you_ think I'm doing, Ant?"

"Oh..." He mumbled as he continued to follow his older sister down the carpeted stairs. His pale blue eyes focused on the patterns on the silk rug that trailed down the stairs, stuck to the stairs by magical bonds. There were oriental flowers, blossom trees and dragons flowing across the rug. In a swirl of gold, scarlet, crimson and pale cream. His eyes didn't see as his big sister leaped down the half of the steps in one jump. But his ears picked up on the distinct thud her dainty feet made as they hit the wooden floor of the living room.

"Stop doing that. It freaks me out..." Antenociticus whined.

Desdemona scoffed, "What's wrong with a _little_ bit of magic?"

Antenociticus had no reply, so he continued in silence to cautiously step down the stairs.

He eventually made it down the stairs, greeted by his annoyed sister with her arms tightly folded.

"Finally..." She quietly sighed as she walked down the long living room, her feet dragging across the oak floor.

Her eyes gazed out of the window, hoping to see her mother to come at any second soon. The silence of the room was disrupted by the loud hypnotic ticking of the grandfather clock placed against the wall.

Antenociticus' dishwater blue eyes turned towards the fireplace and the many pictures surrounding it. His eyes narrowed at the picture of the whole family before his father died. In the family portrait, Severus was glaring at his dreamy mother with his dark eyes in a kind of venom he had never witnessed before. His older sister still sat on the chair, frowning and her arms crossed as always. He sat on a high stool, only a toddler, but still his eyes looked detached and deep in a daydream.

His memory of why his parents grew to hate each other was lacking vital detail. But he distinctly remembered it had something to do with him. But the family denied that it was his fault and blamed one another. His mother blamed his father, and his father blamed his mother. And his sister Desdemona, blamed both of them.

Since his father died, it was never discussed again. Mainly due to the fact he rarely saw his mother as she slaved away for Voldemort and his sister was always away at Hogwarts or her attic bedroom. Whenever he asked his sister about the reasons, her expression froze and saddened and she uttered nothing, not even a single hint of why their parents detested one another.

Desdemona's sea-green eyes stared at the grandfather clock. Both the cast iron hands were narrowing upon midnight. She shuffled on her feet with her face becoming more distressed at each 'ticking' of the clock.

Antenociticus suddenly blinked. His head felt odd for a second, dizzy, light and disorientated... he wondered what it was. "Mona...?" He asked in a nasally voice.

"What?" Growled Mona as she turned to face her brother. She gasped at what she saw.

"What the hell happened to your nose, Ant?" Desdemona said looking at his nose in upmost confusion.

Antenociticus' shaky hand felt his nose. Once its profile was aquiline and bumpy but suddenly it was smooth and straight.

"Whaa...?" Antenociticus uttered, his hand continuing to stroke his nose, wishing it to turn back to normal.

"Look in the mirror for goodness sake!" Desdemona harshly spat as she aggressively turned her brother to the cracked mirror on the far wall.

Antenociticus blinked at his changed reflection. His lanky seven-year-old build remained. His face, even though only one feature changed, looked completely different. His face became far too familiar, like another man's but not his father's.

His mouth gaped, _he couldn't believe it_, "I think I realize why mum and dad hated each other."

"Why…?" Desdemona asked, trying to squeeze an answer out of her brother.

"I… I can't believe it." Antenociticus' eyes blinked furiously at his reflection, "He's not my dad, is he?"

"Who's not your dad, Ant?" She questioned, raising her black arched eyebrows.

"Your dad…" He continued, "You know that black greasy thing that lived with you for eleven years."

"Oh you mean the greasy git whom's genes I unluckily inherited..." She dryly joked.

"Yes." Antenociticus seriously stated

"Oh." Desdemona replied.

"Well, you're _very_ shocked aren't you?" Antenociticus sardonically responded.

"I always knew our mum was a bit of a slag."

"You shouldn't call her that!" Antenociticus defensively growled. "Wait a minute…. How did you know?"

"I'm a smart girl, Ant." Desdemona told her brother, her arms folding again.

Antenociticus looked up at his sister, "Did dad know he was my father?"

"Of course he did." She chuckled as if it was a ridiculous question, "We both knew you were a Black not a Snape."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **_Oh no! Flashbacks….. I know flashbacks suck. But tell that to my thirteen year old self! Plus the story is moving too slowly…_

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**Chapter Two – The Cracked Picture Frame**

A few hours had passed since Antenociticus discovered his real father, Sirius Black. He had been ushered off to bed by Desdemona because his sabre-shaped bags darkened under his blue eyes. It was now five' o'clock in the morning and the summer sun began to rise in the peachy-pink sky. The curtains blocked the sun from entering the large living room. It was lit by one flickering candle on the mantelpiece of the large stone fireplace.

Desdemona's eyes trailed above the fireplace to pictures of her family. All of them neatly framed apart from one. It had a silver frame that was delicately carved but the glass containing the picture was cracked. It was a picture of her young parents just before they married. Her mother was content and beautiful, her strawberry-blonde hair curling down her back and her naive sparkling soft green eyes. Her father however seemed to disguise his true emotion with a slight smile on his pallid face.

She gently closed her eyes and remembered how the picture frame broke.

_Yells echoed through the foundations of the house. The battle between her father and mother raged on for hours now. Bickering was the sound Desdemona and her brother fell asleep to, every night. Everything topic was argued, from the topics about their past, their present, their future, their children, their wealth, their futile situation or their dying relationship._

_Desdemona disconsolately sat on a worn couch in an uptight alert manner by her toddler brother. Her thin arms were firmly crossed and her frown intensifying with each yell she heard._

_Her father's voice was etched in despair as he furiously questioned his wife, "Why did you? Why did you do it? With Sirius, of all people! I was a decent husband!" He was almost blubbering; Desdemona winced at her father's rare indication of emotion._

_Her mother Athena bitterly replied, "You were never a good husband, Severus! You dragged our children into the filth of the Dark Lord which I loathe! I married you to avoid but in return we get hauled back into it all!"_

_Severus spat, "So is that it? Am I the sign of the rebellion you wanted to show your parents?"_

_Desdemona felt the anger of her mother intensifying, "How dare you even suggest that?" Desdemona heard her mother rise from her seat. "When I gave everything up for you! MY FAMILY, FRIENDS, MY REPUATION AND MY WEALTH! And all because I was in love with you!" Athena stepped closer to her husband, "But I don't love you anymore... I hate you each and every day!"_

_There was a long silence until her father coldly replied, "I never loved you... you were just a convenience for me, Ann."_

_She responded in a sly chuckle, "Well, that's obvious isn't it. I was the only woman that would have you and by luck my blood was purer than yours."_

_He quietly said as he slinked into the room Antenociticus and Desdemona was in, "I wish I... __**never**__ married you."_

_The living room door swung open and instantly slammed shut. Desdemona was greeted by her father with a furious scowl._

"_What the hell are doing downstairs when I'm in the middle of an argument with your mother? I told you to stay upstairs!" He growled at his daughter._

"_I'm just making sure that no wands are drawn. Seriously one of you is going to kill another at this rate, dad!" Responded Desdemona._

"_Well, that isn't going to happen is it? If one of us dies, it will be me. Your mother has become awfully temperamental since..." He trailed off._

"_I know, dad." Desdemona quietly said._

_Her father's eyes meet Antenociticus' tired bloodshot eyes, "Mona, what is Ant doing down here at midnight? I highly doubt that a three year can function in this environment particularly with the topics me and your mother are taking about!" _

"_He can't sleep with the all of the bickering you two are doing in the kitchen! And how the hell is he going to know about his paternity when he doesn't understand about... well you-know..." Desdemona stopped speaking and her rosy cheeks turned bright red._

"_I don't really want him knowing though, __**do**__ we Desdemona?" He stressed._

_Antenociticus chirped, "About what, daddy?"_

_Desdemona's father face twitched, "Nothing, son-" He halted and corrected, "Ant."_

_Severus pointed his wand towards the silver-framed picture with him and his young wife and suddenly it shattered. His anger was violently etched on his face as he stormed through the room and up the stairs with his loud footsteps. He quickly left, leaving Antenociticus and Desdemona to stare at each other in bewilderment. _

_After a long silent pause, Antenociticus turned to his eleven year old sister, "Is there... something wrong with me?"_

_Desdemona calmly replied, "No, but there's something wrong with me." Desdemona stared at the floor in guilt._

"_What?" Antenociticus curiously asked._

"_I was the one who told dad something bad about mum, now they hate each other!" Desdemona gulped and turned to face her brother, "It's my entire fault! Mum hates me!" She cried._

"_But... isn't it mum's fault?" Antenociticus innocently suggested._

"_Mum's fault?" Desdemona enquired, confused by her brother's statement._

"_She did the bad thing."_

"_I know that, but-"_

_Antenociticus interrupted, "Daddy tells me lies are ...always g-get found out. She shouldn't have lied." _

"_Ant, do you know what the lie is about?"_

"_No, but it's really bad. Because mummy and daddy just scream and shout."_

**A/N:**_Ah crap, I rhymed on the last two lines. I bet my thirteen year old self is very proud..._


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **_Another flashback... blame thirteen year ol' me. I seriously need to edit this fan fiction of mine immensely! Beware... Snape is now becoming a blubbering wreck or something...oh and Desdemona's a biatch..._

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**Chapter Three – The Enigmatical Memory**

The memory faded as Desdemona stared at her living room. All the memories of her childhood haunted this rustic home. Most memories which were buried deep inside and were never looked upon due to the emotions they brought. Her eyes looked at the pictures on the mantel piece and one of her shaky fingers skimmed a picture of her

This is the closest she could get to her father, ever in her life again. She missed him _too_ much. Her memories of him were over-played and often depressing in nature. Her father in life was affectionless and rather a broken man in her eyes even we he was alive. The reality of her father's personality came into full light when the illusion of his life ended, or alias his death. By the years she spent nurturing her brother as her mother grew steadily insane, Desdemona matured greatly. She remembered her childhood of seeking her father's impossible approval. Each great feat of Desdemona's was replied with 'could be better'.

Only one memory about her father was _enigmatical_ to her, it was the last time she saw him.

_It was a humid but dull English Summer. The sky was abnormally gloomy and depressing for the month of July. The Grey clouds hung over the tranquil moors. The rolling hills of the moor were of every hue, from the emerald green of watered fields, to the yellow of meadows, to the dull lilac of heather and the murky brown of grubby abandoned fields._

_Desdemona's father let out a sigh as he looked through the window at the serene moors and turned to face his daughter. _

"_I need to tell you something very important, Desdemona-" He told her in a quiet sombre voice._

"_It's Mona, dad." Desdemona butted in._

"_Don't interrupt me... this is very serious." He hissed in return._

"_Well.. spill." _

_He cleared his throat and his eyes winced painfully, "You need to know something before I go."_

"_Go where, dad? Where? Are you divorcing Ann?"_

"_Don't call her Ann, she's your mother!"_

"_But you get to hate her..." She whined._

"_Even if I can't respect her, you have to. She's your mother... she gave birth to you."_

"_Yes, dad. I'm well aware of the facts of life. Draco didn't spare any details." Desdemona mordantly replied._

"_This isn't a time to joke, Mona!"_

"_Well, tell me... oh great one..." She continued, "What is the important thing you must divulge to me or is a plebeian like myself unworthy of your solemn news?"_

"_Shut it, Mona." He grumbled. His eyes intently looked into hers, "I want you know something... you need to learn from my mistake."_

"_What mistake? Apart from __**me**__ of course."_

_He frowned, "Now that isn't funny, Mona. I-I..." He stared at her. The silence was awkward and long as he looked at his own daughter. Each feature of her, he was soaking it in. It was the last time he was going to see his daughter ever again._

"_Yes, dad. If you haven't noticed in the past eleven years, I exist..." She dryly said, trying desperately to get her father to speak._

_He swallowed hard and forced himself to utter this words, "Mona, I have spent my entire life making the wrong choices."_

_Mona smirked as she muttered, "First of all, by having me."_

"_Shut up, Desdemona. Or I swear to God, you'll die just like me!" He shouted in venomous anger._

_Desdemona blinked in fright and edged inwards on the sofa she was sitting on._

"_D-Die?" Desdemona whimpered._

"_Yes, Mona. Don't do what I did with my life... or else you'll die like me."_

"_What did you do with your life, dad?" Desdemona gravely asked._

_Her father quickly yanked up his left sleeve to reveal the Dark Mark, which was so ever bold and black on his skin. Around the mark, it was red and swollen. A large contrast to his pallid skin, untouched by sunlight. Desdemona blinked and gave her father a slightly perplexed look._

She steadily fell into reality. The morning sun had rose by now and was starting to shine through the thick dusty curtains of the room. The flickering candle that lit the room died and left only a small stump of white wax.

She continued to think about the last conversation with her father. She still couldn't believe how naive and stupid she was at the time. She responded to her father's final words with retorts. That was one of her biggest regrets of her life besides informing her father about Antenociticus' real father. She knew what he meant; don't join the Death-Eaters. Too obvious really, but... he knew he was going to die already. What did he do? Desdemona could only imagine what he did. She knew he probably betrayed Voldemort but how? Was there really a way he could betray him where he could be found out? She already knew about how her father could hide any thought from the Dark Lord.

She pondered on how such a feat could be possible. Maybe he was finally killed for marrying a pure-blood. But that didn't sound a thing like one of Voldemort's deeds. She knew her father was valuable to him, _very_ valuable. Probably the only Death-Eater with at least two brain-cells to rub together. What could Voldemort kill her father for? Nothing she thought. _However, she was hopelessly mistaken._

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**A/N: **_Whoa… foreshadowing…. Run kiddies!_


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **_Short but not-so-sweet chapter. I have writer's block so I can't edit the fourth paragraph with anything at the moment. I'm just afraid it's saying in that appalling state until I can edit it._

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**Chapter Four – The Theories of Charm Evasion and Dilapidation**

A day had passed since Antenociticus had discovered his true paternity. Desdemona sat in her spacious and dishearteningly-cold room by her oak desk. Her dainty feet rubbed against the soft comforting rug that kept her company in her room for many years. Her desk with wear showed its past, the potion stains, quill scratches, dust in certain places, empty glasses, the odd crumb or the aged potion ingredient. However, this desk's history was hidden by the books lying astray across the desk. Desdemona's thin and delicate fingers softly stroked across one of the book's pages. Down its spine was engraved in intense silver, "The Theories of Charm Evasion and Dilapidation". She was rapidly researching charms to figure out how her brother's nose charm had suddenly faded last night. She spent all morning trying to figure the mystery out.

Everything Desdemona researched gave no answer whatsoever to her question. No book stated the reason why permanent appearance charms suddenly disappear. Her only theories were time limits, her mother's magical abilities fading or her mother had taken the charm off her brother but that was impossible, she thought.

Her pale hand halted on the yellowing page as she read one sentence. In bold black letters it pronounced proudly, "_All 'permanent' appearance charms decay or dilapidate when the caster of the charm dies or the caster personally corrects the said charm_." She winced as the thought plummeted into her mind. Her mother had no wand, not since Easter. Lord Voldemort took it from her. Ripped from her very hands after his infamous 'Crucio'…

Her stomach plummeted into an icy coldness as she realized what this meant. Her mother died…. Her mother died. She began to shake in panic and confusing struggling to scrape out of her memory of her mother's probably last spoken words. Her panic flustered increased at each moment she panicked and thought of it. Her face in an expression between anger and utter despair grew as she shook as she tried to reap her memories about her mother's last uttered words. Her hands grabbed her head and tugged irately at her long black hair. Wincing her green eyes, she continue to rock forwards and back as slowly tears rolled down her freckled cheeks. She denied it over and over again in her head. She thought of every single loophole imaginable but still couldn't deny her mother's death. She didn't want the heart-breaking truth to happen; she wanted to deny it every second of her life.

She couldn't though; she couldn't evade the heart-breaking truth of being an orphan…

**A/N: **_... but Harry Potter can. That's my bad sense of humour showing again... xP_


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **_Unrealistic grief. Mona's being socially-retarded and cracking jokes about Voldy and his pals already. When will that girl learn? XD You do know I'm copying this from a notebook I wrote when I was thirteen? It explains a lot. It explains the pointless dialogue as well; it does explain a bit about the Diamant houses and stuff though. Please tell if there __is__ are any mistakes, I often copy this late at night when I've got nothing better to do..._

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**Chapter Five – The Lament of Orphans**

The two _half-siblings_, Antenociticus and Desdemona sat distantly from one another on two large lounge sofas stained from her childhoods. The rising sun lit the room in its peach hue and the dust in the air delicately fell to the ground. They both desperately wanted to be consoled but only their own grieved company could do so.

Antenociticus asked his sister again, "So is mum _really_ dead? Or are you just joking?"

Desdemona frowned back at him, "Why would I joke about something that morose? Even my sense of humor isn't that dark…"

"So, is mummy really dead then?"

"Yes, she's dead. How many times do I have to tell you?" She muttered through her gritted teeth.

Antenociticus' lips parted but closed again. He was thinking, thinking of something to say.

"Why do _our_ parents have to die?" He yelled in misery.

Desdemona looked at him in shock as he continued to howl in despair, "They did nothing wrong! No! That _thing_ killed them because he wanted to… the sick bastard!"

Desdemona turned to face her distressed brother and consoled him, "Now look, we aren't getting anyway by blaming anyone. I know we both hate Voldemort but we have to pull together and do something."

Antenociticus edged away from his sister on the sofa, "What did you say?" He quietly spat as his scowl deepened, "You said _its_ name! _It _doesn't deserve a name!" He hissed at Desdemona.

She sat up and fumed in venom, "He hates being called his real name!" She grimaced as she continued with her hands moving to each important word, "He hated it so much he used that spell that used to make it a word when spoken… death-eaters where summoned to the speakers! He hates it so much… because he knows the fearless use it! We need to make some sort of a stand to him!" Desdemona spluttered suddenly.

Antenociticus blinked at his sister, "But… when our parents stood up to him, they you-know…" Sighed Antenociticus as he clenched the blanket wrapped around him.

Desdemona gave her brother a sad understanding look and her eyes returned to the floor. Her eyes focusing on the pattern of the wood-paneled floor. Both of the children remained in a sorrowful and eerie silence which gripped their hearts in an icy grip.

"We have to do something…" Desdemona softly muttered,

"What? What can we do?" Antenociticus asked skeptically, raising his eyebrows.

"We have to run… run away from the death-eaters. Seek shelter somewhere else."

"Where are we going to seek shelter, Mona? We have nowhere else to go."

"I know where, Diamant Manor back in America."

"What place?"

"Oh, you won't remember. When I was… well before you were born, we visited it occasionally. The main reason I was sent there was to learn how to use magic."

"Aren't you still underage to use magic out of school?"

"Well, yeah. But anyway, pure-bloods used to go to America to teach their children before they went to school."

"You're _not_ a pure-blood though, are you?"

"No, but our parents had access to America. Not many Wizards can get to America, thanks to all of the new apparition laws there."

"How did you get there, then?" Asked Antenociticus encouraging his sister to avoid speaking about their mother, Athena Diamant's death.

"Well, you know how the Floo Network works. But in Diamant homes, any of them, only other Diamant homes can access them."

"Oh, but isn't that stupid?"

"If you don't want strangers coming, it's a good idea." Desdemona sighed and continued, "Taking refuge in America is the only way to avoid death in our situation."

"But wait a minute, how can you use magic in America under seventeen and not get noticed?"

"America has some sort of crazy barrier for foreign magic or something… I don't really know, Ant…"

"So I could go around using magic in America?" He pondered, his hand rubbing his chin.

"Well, yes. That's the principle isn't it, Ant?"

"So let's go…" He said rather eagerly, about to hop from under the duvet off the sofa.

"But Ant, we have a problem…" Desdemona stated, (_crushing her little brother's hope of turning her into a toad with her wand)._

"What?"

"How do we get through the Floo Network without being noticed… you know, spied on."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"Well, since he came into power, they scan and check who and where people are using the Floo Network. Its risky business, I want to find out how to get through without being noticed."

"What about that…" He stumbled trying to find the word "…Juice Potion?"

"Where are we going to find a wizard hair in the middle of the moors? And how are we going to explain how a wizard got into a Diamant house?"

"Can't we find some of our… _your_ dad's hair?"

"What? Then how are we going to explain how a dead wizard is up and about?"She growled.

"So, we're staying here?"

"Well, until Voldy and his pals come along to take us to our little initiation or _death_ ceremony…"

"That's not funny, Mona. Don't say that!" He protested at his sister's rather cruel comment.

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**A/N: **_If only Mona was socially adept…. She might **actually** have a friend at school. And some more information about American Wizards, they are all suppressed by the Pure-Bloods who trap them in America to control them. But the rebellious masses in America are finally destroying the Pure-Blood's power over them through careful tactics. I couldn't really fit that into the story without making the dialogue even more awkward. . _


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